


Somnambulist

by JazzRaft



Category: Final Fantasy XIII, Final Fantasy XIII Series, Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Angst, Character Study, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 03:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10822602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: He felt a keening howl shiver through his veins, calling for Hope to recognize him as real again.





	Somnambulist

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/160240609992/dont-you-dare-walk-away-with-noel-hope-3) for an anonymous request from [this prompt post.](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/159638211212/five-word-prompts)

“Don’t you dare walk away.”

There was a menace to his voice that surprised the both of them. It was a low, _slow_ , guttural snarl that reminded him of the threatening growls of beasts he used to slay in a long-erased future. While it stopped Hope in his tracks, it didn’t seem to shock him. A horrible feeling twisted in Noel’s stomach, wondering if this had been his voice for far longer than he had noticed until now.

Had he always sounded so… bestial? Had the long, undying years ruined him so much that he couldn’t remember if the sound of his own voice was _right_ or not?

A selfish, small comfort was knowing that he wasn’t alone in changing. If he was harsher than he used to be, colder than he used to be, then Hope was more distant than he once was, more… _gone_ than he was once _here_.

This argument had been waiting to happen for months. More than three hundred years working tirelessly to try fixing the world, and all of a sudden, Hope just _stopped_. His research was left unread and passed by on the myriad of surfaces where his notes were piled in the apartment. There were moments where Noel or Snow had entire conversations with Hope that he never heard. Because when they would glance at him for a reply, they would find him gazing in the other direction; _smiling_ even, as if there was someone there to smile at.

But there was no one. Not even in the dreams that roused Hope in the middle of the night, startling Noel awake with the slightest shift of the mattress.

The sleep-walking was a more recent affliction. And one that Noel had failed to share with Snow after the man’s useless diagnosis that “he’s just over-working himself. Kid needs a break, that’s all.” Noel knew denial like his own reflection. Snow had lost too much already to even consider that he could be losing Hope, too. And after the name Hope’s slumbered visions elicited, Noel thought it would be too cruel to break Snow’s heart more than he already had.

So, he was on his own, facing a just-roused Hope in the damp alley behind their apartment building. Trying not to hate the phantom he now knew Hope was following. And trying not to hate Hope himself for how easily he could be lead away from Noel.

It was quiet in the alley after the threat beneath Noel’s warning. The night was still, the air was close, and the shadows beyond the streetlamps of Luxerion _haunted_. As much as he had halted Hope’s somnambulant transit, the scientist’s attention was still drawn to the darkness that surrounded them. His eyes quivered, searching the shadows in a subtle, sporadic stare. Noel bit down on a roar, terrified by the primeval possession that was clawing through his chest.

“Lightning _isn’t_ out there,” he bit out, hating those words, too; because he wished that it wasn’t true. “Whatever you think you’ve been seeing is _not_ real, Hope.”

Hope’s brow creased, and his hazy, sea-glass eyes finally turned to Noel. But they looked straight through him. As if _he_ were the ghost. Noel almost envied the apparition which had so enamored his beloved. That it could draw the hopeful spark from Hope’s eyes where Noel no longer could.

When Hope spoke, his words were slurred as if drunk, and it was so _wrong_. As wrong as the animal edge to Noel’s own voice. Because Hope was so sharp and articulate. He intimidated and impressed Noel, all at once, every time he talked about his projects. He never condescended or dumbed himself down or missed a single syllable. And even if Noel could only smile and nod and pretend he had any inkling as to what he was talking about, there was a lucidity to Hope’s voice that almost made him understand.

This voice was so unclear, so _confused_. Their roles reversed. This time it was Hope who couldn’t understand.

“There’s only one Lightning,” he said, as if there could be no falsifying the face tempting him away from the light of day each night.

“She’s not here, Hope.”

 _I am_ , he wanted to scream. He wanted to charge forward, fist his hands into his shirt, and shake Hope so hard that he saw stars instead of a savior that wasn’t coming. He almost did. Because it almost looked like that was all it would take. Hope’s brow creased, his gaze focusing for just a moment, closing on Noel’s voice like a lost ship towards a lighthouse.

The vicious, thrashing creature inside of Noel stilled for a breath. He felt a keening howl shiver through his veins, calling for Hope to recognize him as real again. To not be lured by the rose-haired huntress, crafted in the likeness of their comrade. To not let himself be caught in the snare of this callous illusion.

Hope turned an unsteady glance back out into the shadows clustered over the cobblestones. And Noel was too desperate to see what it meant when his eyes _stayed_ on those shadows, even as Hope stepped back towards him.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right…”

Hope cast out a blind hand for Noel that he latched onto in an instant. The monster in him settled, curled into a tight ball at the bottom of his belly, contented to have Hope back and wary to let him go. He cast his gaze behind them as he led Hope back inside, almost anticipating that he might see the ghost following them. At least if he saw it, he could fight it.

Hope stared blankly at the ceiling when he laid back in bed. Noel propped himself up against the headboard next to him. He refused to let his eyes close until Hope’s did. A habit solidified by the centuries of sleeping next to him. Even when Hope’s eyes did close, and the lulling breaths of sleep rolled through him, Noel stayed awake a little longer.

He was always the last to sleep. And there was a creature that had yet to crawl into its den inside of him.

When he awoke the next morning, Hope was gone.

And an animal hunted through the shadows of the city for every day he waited for him to come back.


End file.
